Fine Lines
by blak-cat23
Summary: There are so many ways to go wrong, and only one way to get it right. Korra and Asami both are hit and miss on the road to the Avatar's recovery.


**Note**: So I have decided, against my better judgement since school is starting again, to take requests. So send in any Korrasami requests (or any ship/scenario I suppose).

Asami watched Korra sleep. Not a creepy, no. This wasn't about her feelings. The feelings she didn't know she had until she realized Korra could be taken from her forever? Yes those feelings. The ones she had to beat into submission at the hospital when she realized the true suffering Korra was about to endure, how much Korra would need one good, loyal friend.

Korra had a nightmare. It had woken Asami. She was calm now, mutterings of "poison" and the repetitions of "no" were over, fading lightly into nothing more than heavy breathing and occasional twitches. Asami liked to think her hand lightly clasping Korra's own had something to do with it.

And then Asami quickly retracted her hand.

Realization of the nature of her feelings made Asami uneasy. She recalled all her moments with Korra before, how much of it was flirting? Was she not the friend Korra hoped she was? If she tried to hold her hand now, reassuring her everything would be alright, was that a selfish attempt to touch her? Every single breath Asami took was in question now, and she hated it.

She never understood the whole internal drama of crushing on your best friend until now. Crushing, not the other word.

"…sami?"

Korra was slowly opening her eyes, the first part of Asami's name lost in the sigh of her waking up. She blinked a few, long times before her eyes fixed on Asami.

"You were having a nightmare," Asami said.

"I know."

It was one of the few times in their friendship Asami had to physically look up to Korra. Her bedroll tucked flush in the right angle of Korra's bed and the nightstand was convenient, but susceptible to shakes and violence from any night terrors. When Asami had first laid the mat down, Korra asked her about the dangers of Korra accidently stepping on her, before red-faced and angry, remembering that the particular danger in question, was currently not applicable.

Asami hated walking in front her, and she knew everyone else did too. They hated showing off all they could do that she was now denied. The healers at the hospital said the nerve damage in her legs, while extensive and certainly impairing, was not enough to paralyze her legs. Whatever it was, it was going on inside her mind. How to fight what doesn't have form?

"Do you want to talk about it?" Asami said, pulling her knees to her chest, preparing to get comfortable.

"No."

Korra was very fond of one-word answers, recently. She did her best to avoid conversations

"Okay," Asami said, not about to push it.

"I just want to get back to sleep."

"I think you should."

"Why are you doing that?"

Asami looked up at Korra was furrowing her eyebrows at her. For the first time in days, a true look of upset replaced the emotionless apathy. It was a nice change, but Asami felt her cheeks heat up in fear at being the culprit of Korra' ire.

"Doing what?" Asami said.

"Agreeing with everything I say. Mako did it all the time, I can't stand it."

Dangerous territory, very dangerous. Asami swallowed and sat up. She was back to being taller than Korra.

"I'm just trying to help you—"

"No," Korra cut her off, anticipating the answer. "You're tiptoeing around me, all of you are. I walk—come, come into a room and you all get quiet. If you all stop acting like everything has changed then I wouldn't have to feel like it."

Asami felt guilty. Twice in the past week Korra had wheeled herself into a room and everyone tactlessly dropped conversation, the topic of which was not hard to discern.

"You're right I'm sorry—"

"You're doing it again!"

Korra grabbed at her hair with her fists and groaned, she dropped her head back into the pillow, which complained with a singular huff. Asami brought slender fingers to her temples and rubbed, trying to fight the seeded urge to become irritated with Korra.

She's been through serious trauma, there are emotional side effects, she's bound to be easily irritable…

But how much was Asami allowing Korra to get away with and how much was she rudely expecting of Korra? No one trained her for this, how to deal with afflictions that grow in a way that was never seen, only felt.

"I want to take a walk," Korra said into her palms, self-loathing blanketing every word.

Asami, smartly, did not say a word this time. Let Korra debate whether or not she agreed. She stood and grabbed her robe from the chair, tying the sash at her navel. She unfolded the chair, watching the canvas spread taut. She wheeled it over, right over her own bedroll and placed it against the bed.

She watched Korra sit up again, using her arms, which were still a bit weak, to scoot herself closer to the edge. Once there, she moved to prop her bottom up and into the chair, relying on Asami to hold it still. Once this was accomplished, Korra hooked her arms under the bends in both her knees and pulled, bringing them to the stirrups.

When Korra stopped fidgeting, Asami took it as a sign to move, and she began to push.

Out the door, out the hallway, outside now.

It was a new moon, incredibly dark with the city's lights dimmed in the very early morning hours. Only a few stars had the power to poke through both the veil of night and the mist of light from downtown.

"Where do you want to go?" Asami asked.

"Here's fine."

She halted and clicked the brake. They were under a small grove of olive trees, just before the staircase that lead down to the dock and jetty. Asami took a seat on a nearby bolder to Korra's right.

"Look Korra," Asami said. "I'm not trying to appease you. I'll admit, I've probably been going out of my way to avoid upsetting you. But you're my friend and you're hurting, I'm just trying to make it easier."

"That's not your job," Korra mumbled and Asami felt her head snap in her direction, despite herself. "You're just supposed to help me."

"Yes, make getting around and getting dressed a little easier."

"No, if you make it easier, then I'll never get better."

She was approaching this like a torn muscle, Asami realized. She wanted to work herself until she was strong again. But it was a feedback loop: to get strong she needed to believe she could and the only way to believe she could was to get strong. Nothing would be solved this way.

"Korra, sometimes you can't fix problems with push-ups or training," Asami said, carefully. "Sometimes it takes rest, thought, talking it out."

"You already know I can't walk," Korra said. "No need to talk about it."

"Maybe there is a need," Asami said. "You might relieve some things if you do, lessen the weight a bit."

"Yes, because I can't handle weight like I used to."

Now, she was just being childish on purpose. She was irritated and determined to be inconsolable. And it was getting harder and harder not to blame her, and easier and easier to move past the guilt.

"Korra, you can't just push away everyone who tries to help," Asami said.

"You're not helping, you're all just—you're treating me like I'm helpless," Korra said.

There were cracks now, Korra was bordering tears, even in the dark it became apparent. Korra hated being vulnerable, and she hated needing protection. She was raised her entire life to believe she should and would have all the answers, would be unstoppable, the pinnacle of human potential, she would have the ear of kings and presidents, she would be worth an entire army.

And now she was in a wheelchair and needed help dressing.

"I don't think you're used to needing help—"

"No, I'm not. So why don't you go somewhere and make your Future Industries brand of help useful and use your genius to engineer me some new legs."

It was like someone had taken an elbow to Asami stomach and she fell at the same time. It was a unique flavor of breathlessness that made her want to cry, immediately and all at once. The last time she felt her stomach hollow out was when she realized Mako loved Korra, and now it felt ten times worse.

Asami wanted to throw up, she wanted to hide her face. She wanted to slap Korra, she wanted to run away.

She couldn't sit here any longer, she couldn't sit silently and try not to cry, waiting for Korra to be ready to be pushed inside. So Asami got up quickly and walked away. Korra did not call after her, or even turn to look at her it seemed. She walked faster and faster until she was running through the door and slamming it hard behind her with her own back, slouching against the bamboo. A hand flew up to her mouth as her eyes squeezed tight, a few tears getting loose.

It was pain over what Korra said and knowing that she did not truly mean it. She was in despair at seeing the full force of just how not herself Korra was, how cruel Zaheer had made her with what he stole. She imagined Korra's normally smug face, flexing her arms to scare away an Equalist and she wondered if she'd ever see this version of her friend again.

And most of all, Asami lamented how much she did not hate Korra, not even a little bit. If this was the way things were now, if this is the version of Korra that would forever roam the world, it would be easier if Asami could cut her off, selfishly, and completely.

But she couldn't, even now, Korra was everything. She was anger, and happiness, and joy, and fear, and every single emotion Asami could ever feel in life began and ended with Korra. Tears only mattered if Korra was making her shed them, laughter only counted if Korra was making the jokes, hugs were only were if Korra was the recipient.

Korra was beautiful, even in sobs. Even in anger. She was complete, and human and perfect because of all her flaws and…

And perhaps crush wasn't the right word after all.

* * *

><p>It was two days before they talked again. Korra found her way back in that night alone and Asami slept in one of the common rooms, waking early to avoid suspicion. She saw the after effects of Korra's attempt to maneuver herself into her room and into bed. Asami pushed down the knot that formed behind her breastplate at wondering how long Korra struggled on her own.<p>

They went through the motions, Asami helped her when needed, and said nothing. She handed Korra clothes, pushed her to dinner, drew her bath, did it all wordlessly.

On the morning of day three, Korra finally said something.

"I'm sorry."

It was so quiet, Asami missed it at first, so Korra repeated it a little louder and Asami turned. She hadn't prepared herself for the possibility of Korra apologizing and was flustered to be caught unawares.

The first thing that came to mind was "It's okay" but that wasn't right.

"I accept your apology," Asami said, diplomatically.

Korra recognized she was not forgiven and dropped her head into her hands, digging her fingers into her hair.

"I don't know why I'm doing this," she said. "I'm scared, Asami."

Now that, was the truest emotion she'd expressed in weeks. Asami turned and saw just how hollow Korra's eyes were, it was like they looked at the forest and couldn't see past even the first tree. Her gaze had gone shallow because she was in too much pain to even bother looking for more.

"I don't know how to react to it. I don't know how to help myself," she said. "And if I let everyone do everything for me then it's like we're all getting used to it and that this is the way life is now. And it's not, I have to get better. I _have_ to."

Asami kneeled down, she pushed the superficial thoughts and fears of coming on to strong and feelings and friend-love politics and simply took Korra's hand in one of her own, the other folded perfectly to Korra's cheek and gently pulled until their eyes touched in the air between them.

"I don't have answers," Asami said. "Except that I love you, and Tenzin loves you, and your parents love you. And I know that won't fix anything, believe me if I could find a way to give you back your legs I'd do it, in less than a heartbeat."

Korra's face flashed in guilty and Asami continued before she could apologize again.

"The only thing I can do for you now is be something for you to lean on, in every sense of the phrase," Asami said, giving both places under her hands a gentle squeeze.

Korra just nodded, for once, humble and quiet. And Asami smiled.

"There's not one else I'd rather have right now, you know," Korra said. "I don't know what I mean by that, I just don't know what I'd do without you, you know?"

"Oh believe me, I do."

Asami stood before she revealed too much. They were silent the rest of the way out of the room. And even during dinner, Korra lightened a great deal, so much so that Asami even lost track of the dark circles that had served as a gruesome halo for her eyes.

And the next morning, Korra woke bright and told Asami all about her thoughts to go South to recuperate at home, in less stress, and in familiarity, with her family and with Katara. Asami agreed and fought of the pain of having to separate from her.

It would only be two weeks though.


End file.
